Chapter 2 - The Shadow of the Don
The ambient noise of the upscale bistro seemed to drop twenty decibels instantly.
A tall, imposing figure stopped beside Clara’s booth. Salvatore Moretti—the elusive, billionaire shipping magnate and underworld patriarch known simply in whispered Manhattan circles as 'The Godfather'—stood towering over them. He was dressed in a razor-sharp, bespoke black three-piece suit, his salt-and-pepper hair perfectly styled, and his sharp, amber-brown eyes radiating an aura of lethal, unapologetic authority.
Salvatore didn't look at Marcus or Beatrice. His gaze locked onto Clara, and a warm, genuine smile softened the hard lines of his handsome face.
"Am I interrupting, Bellissima?" Salvatore’s deep, resonant baritone vibrated through the small space.
"Not at all, Sal," Clara smiled, gesturing to the seat across from her. "Just listening to my ex-husband explain why he prefers subtraction over addition."
Salvatore slowly turned his head, fixing his cold, predatory gaze on Marcus. The younger man literally staggered back a half-step, recognizing the dangerous mafia don who owned half the real estate from Wall Street to Brooklyn.
"M-Mr. Moretti," Marcus stammered, his arrogant composure evaporating into thin air. "I... we didn't realize you knew my ex-wife—"
"Former wife," Salvatore corrected coldly, his voice dropping an octave until it sounded like rolling thunder. "And if I ever hear you speak to her with disrespect again, Mr. Vance, your next corporate litigation won't be in a courtroom. It'll be in an intensive care unit. Do we understand each other?"
Marcus nodded frantically, sweat beading on his forehead. "Yes! Perfectly!"
Salvatore slid into the booth beside Clara, his large, muscular frame radiating immediate, protective heat. He reached across the table, his warm, strong hand gently resting over Clara’s plump fingers.
"Are you ready to leave, my love?" Salvatore asked softly, ignoring the stunned silence of the entire restaurant.
"More than ready," Clara beamed, sliding out of the booth.
May you like
As they walked out together toward a waiting black Maybach, Clara caught a glimpse of Marcus and Beatrice standing paralyzed in the center of the bistro, realizing that the 'fat, unmarketable wife' they had discarded had just hitched her wagon to the most dangerous, powerful man in the city.
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